


The Inspiration

by tempered_rose



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Light Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Writer's Block, rogue templars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: Varric has writer's block and tries to find something to cure it, when Hawke arrives to Skyhold after mixing with a bad bunch of Templars. Needless to say, all works of fiction are forgotten and Hawke becomes his first priority.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wyndx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyndx/gifts).



The parchment in front of him is annoyingly empty and it seemed to refuse to be filled with words of great prose. He was a storyteller for Maker’s sake, surely he could pen a story by now? Didn’t he have enough years’ experience to be over the simple problem of writer’s block by now? Apparently, he didn’t.

Varric suppressed a groan and looked around the great hall of Skyhold and the inhabitants that were ignoring him as they moved about their duties. He didn’t mind being ignored, was rather fond of it actually, but he wished someone would give him inspiration to pen something. Hell, even a follow up to the unpublished follow up of _Swords & Shields_ would be better than nothing at this point. He chuckled to himself absently when he thought of the torture he’d been levelling over Cassandra’s head about that one.

The sight in the far corner, while interesting, did little to inspire him. Dagna had Iron Bull’s rapt attention. A small snippet of a writing idea crossed his mind, but it was gone before he’d gotten past a paragraph. ‘The brilliant arcanist has the way to stop the demons from taking over the world for the final time, but when confronted with the weapon who would do so, she is confronted with needing to find a worthy warrior. The man she finds is he worthy, or is he just out to steal the plans?’ Varric shakes his head. That’s terrible.

He sighed and looked away from the door on the throne’s left side. He wondered where the inquisitor was and what he was up to. There was literally no telling with that man. If they weren’t wandering through the Fade, then they could be off running errands to broaden the influence for the Inquisition. If they weren’t doing that, then he could be searching for a new mount. Did he ever get tired? Trevelyan didn’t seem to, Varric admired that about him and thought he was doing just fine making himself into a hero. Hopefully this time would end better than all the other times, he added darkly and pushed away those unpleasant thoughts and refocused on his blank scroll.

What would his heroine be this time? He tapped the quill against the table absently, careful to not blunt the point despite the idleness of the gesture. He tried not to write about Hawke, he really did, but she always seemed to make herself the heroine in his stories. No matter what happened, he really would write about her in some way. She was the finest lady he knew. The bravest soldier, the most sensible commander with perhaps the exception of Trevelyan. She was certainly more beautiful than Trevelyan.

Varric cleared his throat. Enough of that. Sighing, he pushed himself up and away from the table and started out the open door. He’d been down for an hour and hadn’t come up with anything yet. Perhaps the fresh air would help.

He walked out and stood out of the at the rail of Skyhold’s main staircase. He took a deep breath and let his lungs fill with the sharp, cold air that surrounded them. The sun was warm on his face and the smell of horse, metal, and leather mixed with the alpine scent that clung to everything. There were definitely worse places he’d been; Skyhold was worth staying around for sometimes in moments like that.

The moment didn’t last as he was jostled by someone going past. There was a muttered ‘excuse me’, but no more and Varric scowled as he opened his eyes and looked for the perpetrator. They were lost in the crowd by that point and so he grumbled a little and started down the stairs instead. The pub called to him and so he started in that direction as a lone rider mixed with other foot traffic came across the stone bridge. Varric paid them no mind as he entered the pub and went straight to the bar and hoisted himself up onto a stool. If anyone was stupid enough to make any comment about his height, they were smart enough to say nothing and he ordered a lager.

In the corner, some of Bull’s recruits were trying to play Wicked Grace and were doing a poor job from the state of their inebriation and lack of interest in the cards. Varric sighed and focused himself on his drink. There would likely be no source of inspiration here either.

He had every intention of continuing in that vein for the rest of the afternoon and had downed half of his pint when the door to the Herald’s Rest burst open. It took a moment for the cold air to waft through the air but by the time it did, the Inquisitor had already strode across the room up the bar and was approaching Varric with a look on his face that made the dwarf suddenly very alert. He hadn’t accidentally-on-purpose insulted anyone important again, had he?

“Varric, a word please?” Trevelyan asked with a tone that was anything but a request. Varric raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been needed for anything super important since before the Breach had been closed.

Varric looked longingly at his beer before slipping off the stool and following Trevelyan outside. They went away from Sera’s window and near the wall covered in vines before the Inquisitor stopped and turned to face him again.

“What’s up Boss?” Varric asked, for some reason not liking the way Trevelyan was carrying himself.

Trevelyan watched him for a moment, not even bothering to smile at the passers-by who wished him well like he normally would have done. That set Varric’s alarms off. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Varric, have you heard from Hawke lately?”

The question shouldn’t have knocked him off balance, but with the way he was holding himself made Varric temporarily lose control of his senses. The coldness of the air overwhelmed him to being in a state of numbness, air rushed in his ears so that anything that Trevelyan said was momentarily lost to the sound of blood rushing in his head.

“Now that you mention it,” Varric made himself say, the sound lessening from his ears, “no, I haven’t.”

He felt his heart stop while he waited for Trevelyan to say whatever it was that he came to tell him. Fear gripped him as he was afraid something had finally, finally taken her away from him. Varric had somehow convinced himself that if they could both make it through the actual Fade without dying, then maybe they could live almost forever. Andraste’s wishful thinking.

Trevelyan gave him a sympathetic look. Varric had enough of his wits about him to know that it wasn’t one that he used when he was about to impart someone’s death to a loved one. He relaxed minutely.

“She’s with the healers. Apparently some rogue Templar’s-- _Varric_!” Trevelyan called out as Varric turned at the mention of Templars and headed in the direction of the mage healers.

He arrived, stone-faced, and pushed past the ones trying to block his entry into the tower. Hawke was laid out on one of their beds with a few healers crowded around her. Varric couldn’t see very much due to his lack of height and also the bodies in the way. He as gently ushered aside as one brought a vial of some form of healing potion to the bedside. Varric waited anxiously as the moments ticked by with little to no change. He did manage a glimpse of Hawke’s form and the paleness he saw made his stomach fall through his shoes.

How far had she had to travel like this? Why didn’t she stop for aid? Why was she coming to Skyhold anyway? _Please wake up._

Varric managed to commander himself a seat on a stool next to her bed after the bulk of the healers stepped away. One turned to him and gave him what he assumed they must have thought was a smile but was really a grimace instead.

“Time will tell,” was all they said before they turned away and started back to manage the cleanup of the soiled bandages and emptied potion bottles. Varric ignored them as he looked at Hawke’s features. Her eyes were closed and she was still too pale; a few of her limbs were covered in wrappings, but the largest concentration of them were around her middle where if Varric had to guess, he assumed a Templar had caught her in the ribs and had lashed deep. Varric felt a stirring of rage. If he’d been there, Bianca would have gotten that asshat between the eyes for a start.

Anger overtook his concern for a moment as his jaw set in a hard line. If anything happened to Hawke, it would take more than just the Inquisitor and a few companions to haul him back in. He was going to find these Blight-infested mongrels if it was the last thing he ever did.

Varric sat by her bedside stewing in his anger and upset feelings for Maker-knew how long, before there was movement on the bed. A light grip on his fingers indicated Hawke’s vitality and Varric’s glance shot to her face where a grimace was on her face.

“What in Maker’s name happened?” Varric asked before he could stop himself and ask if she was ok.

“Love you too, Varric, thanks for the concern.” She grimaced but her voice seemed to have some of its steel in it so the knot in Varric’s gut began to relax.

“I’m sorry, but honestly, Hawke. What happened?”

She took her time to make herself comfortable before answering him. Varric had glanced up at the loitering mages and they decided to go find something else to do in other places, as they quickly left the room. Varric’s attention didn’t stray too long from his dearest friend as he moved closer to her bedside.

“I was on my way here and some Templar assholes decided I would make a good target. Or at least, that’s what they had thought.”

Varric shook his head and kept his grip on her hand. He was quiet for too long because Hawke started again.

“Varric, I’m okay. It was just a longer ride here than I thought it’d be.” Her tone was soft, but her eyes had regained their spark and determination. He nodded slowly and made him lessen his grip on her hand. He was surprised when she maintained the connection.

“Why were you coming up here?” He asked, then added lamely, “You didn’t write to say you were coming…”

Hawke gave him a pained look, a smile that was meant to be cheerful but somehow was lost on the reality of the situation. “I wanted to surprise you. So...surprise?”

Varric shook his head and stood up to run a hand through his hair. He needed a drink again. He moved around the bed, and went to look at a few of the things in the mage’s quarters that they’d occupied. He wasn’t even sure who this room belonged to.

“Are you angry?” She asked when he didn’t speak and Varric let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Andraste’s tits, Hawke.” Varric exhaled and didn’t look over at her.

“Are you?”

“At you? No. At those bastards? Absolutely. I hope you booted them in the face, the ass, wherever you could get a hit in.” He looked over at that and saw something dark in her eyes. “If you didn’t, I will leave right now and hunt them down.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She said quietly and Varric moved back over to her bedside, arms crossed over his chest. She avoided his eyes because she was too busy replaying a memory.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” She nodded slowly and Varric nodded. “Good. They wouldn’t have liked it had I found them first.”

“There were only three. I managed them all but,” she shrugged and then immediately winced. “It was easier when I had help.”

Varric shook his head and sat at the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her. “Hawke, I’m glad to see you as I always am, but please for the love of the Maker, don’t come visit without writing first. If anything ever happened to you, I swear I don’t know what I’d do.”

It was more than he wanted to say, but the sentiment remained. Hawke was quiet a while before shifting to sit up carefully. Varric saw the grimacing she was doing and went to help immediately.

“Lay down before you reopen those wounds!”

“I’ll be fine, the potions are helping.” Hawke sat up, careful of her ribs and Varric politely averted his eyes from where her breasts were covered half with her band and the rest by bandages. “Varric. Varric, look at me?”

He did so and she gave him a more genuine smile. It did little to ease his discomfort.

“Varric, I wanted to see you. It’s been too long.”

He nodded in agreement and slid an arm around her waist for support when she leaned into him. He ignored the stirrings in his blood when he felt the warmth of her bare skin under his fingers or the strength of the muscles from her back against his arm. She always had this effect on him but he never did anything about it; there was never a time or a place for it anyhow.

“I missed you.” Hawke spoke softly again and he heard the weariness in her voice. Looks like the sedatives in the last potion were kicking in again.

“I missed you too, Chuckles.”

Hawke turned her head and her smile crossed his cheek just before her lips brushed against the stubble on his jaw. Varric swallowed and felt her slipping back to lay down, which he then turned to help her do. He was careful as he pulled the blanket up over her body and was even more careful not to touch her.

“Stay with me.” She said and Varric nodded slowly but made to get off the bed until she gripped his wrist. “I meant here.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Varric met her drowsy eyes with his own sober ones.

“You won’t. Just...stay. Please?”

He nodded and shifted to lay back against the headboard. With a surprising amount of dexterity and strength considering, Hawke jerked on his arm until he was sprawled out on the bed also. Despite the bed’s small size, there was enough room for the pair of them, but they were touching all along the side of their bodies. For Varric, it was torturous heaven.

“Stay.” Hawke shifted so that her head rested on his broad shoulder and her back was against his side. To avoid his arm being crushed, Varric moved it to wrap carefully around her bandaged waist and held her close. Again, the heat from her skin tempted him to touch more than he was allowed, and the swell of her backside against his leg was killing him slowly, he was sure of it.

Varric closed his eyes and hoped that she’d fall asleep soon so he could leave to at least get another drink. He fought himself for control to not just slide his hand a little bit more securely about her to touch her lightly and lovingly the way he wanted to.

“Tell me a story,” she whispered and let one of her hands rest on his arm.

Varric’s eyes opened as his mind stalled. If only he could, he thought to himself and recalled his writer’s block. Instead, he replied, “what kind of story?”

Hawke settled further into his body, throwing the blanket around them both and Varric would have to struggle to think of a more comfortable place than this.

“A good one.”

Varric felt her fingers on his arm, playing with the hair there, and he started to tell a story of a beautiful maiden--who was also a legendary swordswoman--who had to save her family from a corrupted lord. He made sure to throw in some good jokes that he thought were brilliant.

By the time he’d finished the tale--where the swordswoman was wed to the handsome dwarf who’d come to her aid--Hawke was delightfully pliant and warm in his arms. She had moved to be tucked against his side with her head resting over his heart. Varric smiled at her, but the thought of going back to the Herald’s Rest disappeared from his mind. He brushed some of her dark hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

“I love you Chuckles.” Varric whispered and tried not to move to wake her up as he looked back to the ceiling.

Mumbled and very faint and somehow Varric didn’t imagine it, but he heard Hawke’s voice say, “I love you too, Varric.”

Varric looked down and was met with sleepy brown eyes and a warm smile. She then closed them and pressed closer against his side. He didn’t mind being a pillow, not in the least. Varric closed his eyes and rested their heads together and fell asleep there, listening to the sound of Hawke’s breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> I really do hope you like this, as it was my first time of EVER writing Dragon Age fic, nevermind these two. I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted ;-;


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